Merry Christmas, Gilligan!
by Sideshow Cellophane 26
Summary: Just a quick Christmas fic. Gilligan learns that he isn't alone while on the subject of getting rescued. Or wanting the one thing of Christmas everybody misses after two years on a tropical island, aside from the dinner.


**Merry Almost-Christmas!**

* * *

Gilligan stared up at the sky, concentrating hard. His eyes were squinted, head cocked in an uncomfortable position facing up. His arms hung loosely at his side, useless for this activity. He was on the beach at the lagoon, the gentle waves lapping the sand. The only sound besides the birds chirping.

The entire group of castaways were standing in the bushes, watching in silence. In a way, they sort of hoped he would be able to make it happen. But they also knew that there was a zero percent chance for Gilligan's willpower to make it happen.

Skipper shook his head, whispering to the Professor. "How long has he been out there?"

He checked his watch, "About two hours now. He's determined, Skipper."

"But he knows—"

"His mind won't accept it. H-he _just won't accept it_."

"Will he snap out of it?"

"When he's ready, yes. But we don't know how long _that_ will be."

Meanwhile, Ginger and Mary Ann were standing behind several of the bigger bushes. Mary Ann sighed. "Ginger, how long do you suppose he'll be out here?"

"It depends, Mary Ann. I once knew a director who did this exact same thing, only he wanted to make it stop raining for this one take he had to do."

"Well, it worries—" She did a double-take, "_One shot?_ How long did it rain?"

"About two months."

"_Straight?! _Couldn't he just move onto the next scene?"

She shrugged. "It was the last take in the movie."

"And he couldn't do it anywhere else?"

"Oh, no. He was stubborn."

"We-well, why didn't he just—ooh, never mind. I'm worried about Gilligan, what if _he's_ out here for that long?"

"Well. When was the last time he ate?"

"At breakfast this morning."

Ginger nodded. "Thought so. He'll be back at dinner, if not sooner, knowing his appetite."

"I hope so…"

Mr. and Mrs. Howell were opposite the girls, watching Gilligan as well.

"Lovey, this is simply _fascinating_. You _must_ remind me sometime, to put that boy in my memoirs."

"You already did dear, when he was making horse sounds with those coconuts and trotting around the island like one."

"Ah, yes. Strange times my dear, strange time. But that _determination_, Lovey!"

"He has that same look you had when the Powells were trying to buy the company in Georgia."

Mr. Howell jumped. "Dear god Lovey! Watch the _memories_, those horrid_ memories!"_

"Oh-h-h, it's okay Thurston. Let's go to our hut, he'll be back with us by dinner."

"Heh, yes my dear." They both left, each nodding to the Professor and Skipper.

Gilligan shifted every now and then, but never really moved from his position. As everyone has said, he was determined to make his wish come true.

_It's my Christmas wish. I just want it to be ME who'll do it, not whatever the Professor said makes it change!_

He shifted his feet again, the soles of his shoes wearing them down. He heard the Skipper and Professor leave, but didn't care. They all thought he couldn't do it. They all thought the island wasn't in the right zone to make it happen.

_But I WILL make it snow by willpower! Even if it takes me forever!_

He sighed, bowing his head in defeat. Gilligan turned to the girls now, who came out of the bushes. "I-I can't do it! My brain hurts, my feet are sore from all of this standing, and I'm hungry!" He stomped his foot.

"Oh," Mary Ann hugged him. "It's okay, Gilligan. None of us could have done it."

"We're still proud of you, Gilligan," Both girls lead him back to the huts. "Why don't we just concentrate on what really matters?"

"Dinner?" He looked at Ginger hopefully.

She laughed, "No, silly! Each other!"

"Oh. But dinner still counts, right?"

Both girls laughed. Mary Ann went ahead to the supply hut, "I'll be sure to make it extra special for you, Gilligan."

Ginger still had her arm wrapped in the crook of his. "I mean Gilligan, we're all together! None of us is sick, are we?"

"Mentally or physically?"

"Just answer the question, honey."

"Well . . . I guess we're all okay. Though the Skipper may seem . . . Nah, we're all okay."

"Yeah, see? We have plenty of food."

"Enough for Mary Ann's special coconut crème pies!"

"That's right, too!" She laughed, "And we have sturdy huts that have lasted us through the worst kinds of storms."

"And hurricanes, too."

"That counts as a storm, sweetie."

"Oh. Sorry."

"But best of all: we're all still friends. Why, all of you have been like family to me."

Gilligan opened his mouth to comment, but closed it after a warning glance.

"We all love and take care of each other. Sure, sometimes we need to blow off some steam, but we've hung through until the very end."

"So does that mean you're going to cook dinner now? Because I won't be able to stay around much longer without anything in my stomach."

She sighed, but smiled. "Can you think about what I just said?"

"I already do, everyday. But it's nice to know that somebody else does, too."

Ginger smiled, heading for the supply hut to help Mary Ann.

"Ginger?"

She turned around, "Yes?"

"I'm going to miss you when we get rescued. All of you. That's why I don't like to talk about it much, because we won't see each other again."

She smiled sadly. "As much as I wanted to get rescued, that's one reason why I don't look too forward to it too. Let's just—let's not talk about it on Christmas."

"Mm." He headed back to his hut, "Merry Almost-Christmas, Ginger."

She smiled again. "Merry Almost-Christmas, Gilligan."

"And a happy new year," Both finished.


End file.
